


Dong With The Wind

by ZombieCheeze



Series: Love Me Right [2]
Category: iKON (Kpop)
Genre: BDSM, Blindfolds, Gangbang, Light Bondage, M/M, Nipple Clamps, Rough Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-07
Updated: 2017-02-07
Packaged: 2018-09-22 17:55:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,018
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9618707
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ZombieCheeze/pseuds/ZombieCheeze
Summary: Of all the members, Donghyuk is the one that likes it the roughest, craves that distinct feeling of being used up, manhandled, worshipped to his very limits.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Omg so i got the title of this from a porno and it was actually what spurred me into finally finishing this (it sat in my drafts with one single opening line for about 5 months, bc I started it just before Stars). I'm so sorry about this you guys

Of all the members, Donghyuk is the one that likes it the roughest, craves that distinct feeling of being used up, manhandled, worshipped and fucked out to his very limits.

 

But this, he thinks hazily, is pushing every limit he has.

 

He’s been on his knees for what feels like hours now.  The ache in his joints has progressed beyond protest and straight into outright riot; he trembles with deep, desperate exhaustion, but the spreader bar locked around his thighs keeps him stretched open, throwing off his sense of balance.  Junhwe hadn’t wanted the thigh spreader, protesting loudly at the loss of the opportunity to fuck Donghyuk’s thighs outright, but Jinhwan had paid his objections no heed, and Bobby had smothered Junhwe’s complaints shortly thereafter with his own dick.

 

Donghyuk’s smooth, lean thighs and ass are littered with hickeys, bruises, handprints:  Delicious souvenirs of a long night, and a long night yet to come.

 

He’s lost count of how many times he’s been fucked, sucked, slapped, jerked or spanked, or any combination of these; he’s barely aware of the others even now, his fragmented attention scattered like ash.  His hands had been tied together by the wrists above his head, and then secured to the hook in the ceiling with just enough tension to allow him to squirm, and just enough slack to let him wear himself out.

 

And it’s not only there that he’s restrained; his line of vision stops at the darkness of Yunhyeong’s favorite black silk blindfold, and below that, his cock is suffused with blood, desperately hard and straining in the snug hold of a little silicone cockring.  He’d already come once, and he’s wearing the evidence of it on his thighs, along with that of the others.

 

They’d decided against gagging him, though, after some discussion.  His high-pitched cries of pain and pleasure are too sweet to be muzzled; besides, they’ve got other, better, uses for his mouth.

 

But right now, his mouth is unimpeded but for two fingers that slip past his swollen, sore lips to play across his tongue, slick and hot.  That’s not enough, not enough at all to keep him from wailing with every thrust from behind.  Two hard hands grip tightly into his lean hips, brutal thrusts jarring sharp noises from deep in his sore throat, fucking him like the toy he is.

 

It’d almost be enough to make him come again, if he weren’t already so tired, and also if someone else’s hand hadn’t found a nipple and pinched it viciously.  A fourth hand smoothes down over his heaving belly, reaching beneath him to stroke his cock, and Donghyuk loses track of everything, gasping for breath, straining—and failing—to keep himself together.

 

“Yeah?” Comes Hanbin’s voice, low and hot and oh _so_ close.  Donghyuk flinches away despite himself, too overwhelmed, too sensitive not to react sharply to the brush of Hanbin’s mouth against his earlobe.  “You like that, huh?  Why don’t you guess who’s fucking you?  If you guess right, we’ll let you come.”

 

Donghyuk can’t breathe, because the pressure on his nipple suddenly doubles, and trebles, sensation tearing across his skin like a lightning strike.  He tries again, lungs filling desperately, but whatever words he’d dredged up slip out of his breath, coming out instead in a strident moan of protest and pleasure.  Only on the next gasp does he find his voice, and even then all that comes out is a long string of breathless expletives, explosive pleasure riding on the back of exquisite pain as the intensity finds its place on Donghyuk’s other nipple.

 

Clamps.  He should’ve fucking known.

 

“ _Fuck!_ ” Donghyuk moans yet again, and it feels to him like the only word worth saying, the only one that can express the magnitude of how profoundly fucked-out he is.  He’s so far gone that he couldn’t even begin to guess at a style; sometimes Jinhwan fucks him like this, sometimes not, but it’s the only name he can think of with his thoughts rattling like an airplane in turbulence.

 

“Who is it?”

 

“J-Jinhwan—hyung—” He manages to say, finally.

 

Jinhwan’s soft laugh ghosts across his lips in response, and Donghyuk jolts again, though whether from that or the sharp slap stinging across his ass, ostensibly as punishment for a wrong guess, is debatable.

 

“Nope, it’s not me.” Jinhwan purrs, his plush mouth slanting hot and open across Donghyuk’s to kiss him.  He swallows Donghyuk’s shaky moans, sucking Donghyuk’s tongue into his mouth to bite, drawing his abused lower lip between sharp teeth, fingernails raking pleasurably across his scalp.

 

“Y-Yunhyeong-hyung?” Donghyuk tries again when Jinhwan lets up for a moment.  Another painful flick to his nipple, this time against the clamp itself, and for a split instant the pain has him stiffening, galvanized by pure reaction.  He jerks himself away from Jinhwan, wheezing for breath, a string of spit clinging to his chin as he moans.

 

“Nope.” Comes Bobby’s gravelly, amused voice on his other side.  “You sure are bad at guessing, Dong.”

 

“Come on, give it one more shot,” Hanbin coaxes, “I know you wanna come.  Tell me.”

 

Donghyuk thinks he says something, but he can’t be sure, because Junhwe moans loudly not too far away, and then someone leans forward over Donghyuk’s arched back to speak into his ear, skin slick with sweat, body hot with exertion.  A hand reaches forward to rake through Donghyuk’s hair, pulling his head back firmly, teeth finding the side of his bare neck to taste his sweat and desperation.

 

“I’m a little insulted you can’t tell it’s me, hyung.” Chanwoo’s voice is low, husky with suppressed moans, and Donghyuk shivers with cold surprise once this fact makes it through the layers of stupefaction insulating his addled thoughts.  “So why don’t you tell everyone who it is making you feel so good?”

 

He’s surprised by this new development, mostly because of how bashful Chanwoo usually is when it’s his turn to endure the attentions of all the others; and yet Chanwoo’s clever and calculating, and Donghyuk should’ve expected that he would leap at the chance to assert himself over one of his hyungs.  He might be too intimidated to top Bobby or Yunhyeong, but Donghyuk’s a lesser threat to Chanwoo’s newly-developing aggressive side.

 

Donghyuk thinks he’d like to do as Chanwoo wants, to say his name, but all he can do is moan pathetically.  It hurts— _everything_ fucking hurts—someone’s grabbing a handful of his hair to kiss him roughly, someone’s got a hand wrapped around his aching cock, someone else is tugging lightly at the ringing silver chain linking his nipples together.

 

The cock ring has fuck-all to do with holding his orgasm back; all it’s done is make him painfully hard, and only the pain of everything else keeps the rising heat in his belly at bay.

 

And then someone yanks the chain _hard_ , the clamps pop off of Donghyuk’s nipples, and Donghyuk _screams_.

 

All his self-control fails all at once, the surge of intense, delicious pain sharply underscoring the powerful rush of hot pleasure, overriding even the terrible ache in his knees, sweeping all his various hurts into itself.  He can no longer feel anything but the pulse of liquid heat drenching his insides, and he jerks hard on the rope around his wrists, arching into Chanwoo’s rapid, vicious thrusts, crying out wordlessly as he comes, and comes, and _comes_.

 

But Chanwoo doesn’t stop, and neither does Donghyuk’s orgasm, the muscles in his shoulders and back tight with the intensity; he breaks, his mind suddenly going dark and blank like a snuffed candle as he gives himself over completely to every hot, wrenching pulse of it.

 

He isn’t sure how long he’s gone, but it can’t be as long as it’d felt; his wrists are still tied and his blindfold still covering his eyes, but after a moment he becomes aware that he’s on his back now, though he can’t remember how he got there.  After another moment, he also realizes that the thigh spreader is gone, his legs quivering with weakness where he lies.

 

And then someone cradles his head gently between their palms, thumbs brushing over his cheekbones, beneath his eyes, rubbing lightly at his temples; someone else undoes the bindings from his wrists.  The softness of the blindfold slips up and over his forehead, but he keeps his eyes closed, still exhausted but mostly just content for now not to know.

 

One of his legs is raised gently by someone else, and a cool, damp towel pressed soothingly to the bruised skin, wiping away the evidence of multiple orgasms.  It travels across the backs of his aching thighs, and then between his legs, across his belly, and he sighs with relief, his nerves tingling pleasantly at the soft texture of the towel and the coolness of the water on his overheated skin.

 

Finally, with an effort, he cracks an eye open to see Yunhyeong leaning over him, warm hands stroking Donghyuk’s sweaty hair out of his eyes.  Hanbin’s next to him, rubbing the feeling back into Donghyuk’s hands in both of his own, and both of them smile down at him when they catch his eye.  He tries to smile back at them, but he’s still so happily fatigued that the effort of smiling forces his eyes closed again.

 

He’s a complete mess, utterly obscene:  Covered head to toe with spit and not a little cum, bruised from ass to knees, sullied and slicked with sweat.  All six of them are nearby, hands proudly stroking his abused skin and making him jerk with hypersensitivity.  He tries to speak, but even as he does he forgets what he’d been wanting to say, and what comes out is another mumbled, incoherent string of swear words through his slack lips.

 

“Hmm?  What was that?” Yunhyeong whispers, brushing Donghyuk’s hair out of his face.

 

“Didn’t know Chanu was getting so goddamn aggressive.  Who’s been teaching him?” Donghyuk says, or thinks he says, and Chanwoo laughs quietly in the background.

 

“You’re welcome.” Junhwe says smugly from somewhere near Donghyuk’s feet.  Someone mops his belly with the cool, damp towel now, and if he had any energy it all, it might be enough to get him hard again.  As it is, it’s an effort just to stay awake here with his head in Yunhyeong’s lap, with a dozen hands massaging his sore body.  So he relaxes, knowing he’s going to be black and blue tomorrow but unable to bring himself to give too many shits.

 

Someone brings him a glass of water, and he tries to sit up, but his muscles give out before he can even try, and his legs in particular aren’t speaking to him.  Hanbin helps him sit up a little.  “I’d better get a pass on dance practice tomorrow.” Donghyuk says, although not very threateningly, his voice weak and high-pitched from all the screaming.

 

“Sure thing.” Hanbin laughs, and presently Donghyuk closes his eyes, because he’s so tired everything seems blurred around the edges.

 

He vaguely remembers being hauled to the shower, Jinhwan and Bobby alongside him, washing his hair and body clean of sweat and cum.  Strength seeps very slowly back into his muscles, and it seems as if he’s drawing it from the other two, from the tight hold of Bobby’s arms keeping him upright and the feel of Jinhwan’s hands on his scalp and the soft roughness of the wash towel on his skin.

 

He lives for these nights, when all of them descend on one helpless member like this, and if it’s a little hard on the guy in the middle, well—you can’t make an omelet without breaking a few eggs.  

 

Yunhyeong pulls the covers warmly over him and Chanwoo in Chanwoo’s bed, tucking them both in, Chanwoo’s arm draped over Donghyuk’s waist.

 

“So how’d I do?  Junhwe-hyung has been teaching me.” Chanwoo says quietly after a few minutes, and Donghyuk can hear the need and hope in his voice, the insecurity underneath the pride.

 

“Give me five minutes and I’ll show you _just_ how thankful I’m feeling.”

 

 


End file.
